And So I Breathe
by Andrejia
Summary: Luka, on the outside looking in. Set in season 9, while Carter and Abby equaled love. Or not, depends of your point of view.
1. Chapter 1

So, fine. She did it. She gave in. Carter persuaded her enough until she said yes. Or maybe it wasn't even that, maybe it was her idea. Maybe she was glad he was out of her –well, their – way at last so she could yell "next". Or maybe **they** happened a while back, somewhere between her moving out of her safety place and Greene dying. While Greene was dying. That's a weird analogy. Anyway, he's actually more surprised that he was surprised when he found out.

About a week ago, they came in together. But he used to give her rides to work as well, long after they've … whatever. And, you know, she didn't seem to care too much that he fell asleep on the sofa, in the lounge and was ok with going home alone. And so what she was tying his scrubs and paying attention to his general well - being? They're friends. Close friends. Friends who confide in…bull. It wasn't that she moved on, it wasn't like he was pinning for her and it wasn't even the fact that he was alone. Again. No. It was the fact that she moved on **with him, **that they seem close and that she's happy. Or just not looking so utterly miserable like back then. And her moving on with Carter meant their…whatever meant absolutely nothing to her, that it was just a small diversion, passing time. So he was nothing, during the day. Did she ever think about Carter when…? No, at least he was sure of that part. She definitely wanted that out of him, and him only. Hell, she did come back night after night…whenever she wasn't dealing with her mother or her ex-husband or Carter's lame ass charity ball – if it's for charity, than why do they need to have a ball? so all the rich folks can brag about their donation? – or those other 9,997 things on her mind. Sometimes, she should've left the money on the night stand. Ok, that's a bit over the top, but still…

So today he found out about them. Chuny called them "sooo cute", after spotting them holding hands outside the ambulance bay. While he had lost that sheer of self-confidence and self-awareness he still had. Because you see, growing up with certain role models – a happy life, a fulfilling job, in whatever field that is, normal parents who had given both guidance and liberty to chose what suits their sons bet – sets your mind up to create a certain path in life that you see as normal and it doesn't even cross your mind that – you know - a bomb may fell on your head. Literally.

He was, sort of, waiting for her to come in person, drag him aside, or ask him to go outside for coffee, and in the middle of conversation say something like "So…Carter and I…you know"…or…decline his offer of a ride home with "No…Carter and I are going to dinner", or anything to that effect. Really, just a hint would've been enough. He did open the door for her to tell him a few times, making some moronic remark about her and Carter coming in together and some others, that made him seem like an idiot. Instead, he got to find out last.

He ruined everything himself, so he shouldn't complain about her moving on. She deserves to be happy. It really was his fault he'd lost her, it he hadn't been such a zombie half the time. Only half…the first one. Before Maggie and Carter making goo-goo eyes. When she seemed to really enjoy his company - well, what's left of him, anyway - and really, she had been the first one in centuries to behave like a school girl with a crush around him. And no, the very few before County don't really count, because it was weird on so many levels, mainly since they knew he was going to sail away – well, not really, just knew that he was only moonlighting for a really short period of time, and would in no way consider being permanent – and didn't care. At all. And Carol doesn't count either. He was looking for something else to think about, she was looking for a new doorma – no. He wasn't the passive type whenever he really wanted something. Going with the flow…waiting for the woman to make the first move..and continue from there on really wasn't him, just this guy who appeared to be perfect and flawless and who so didn't give a rat's ass about the father of the twins, their last name or some other trivial stuff like that. Weird. He turned around to take another look at Abby after first meeting her and that hadn't happen before in …this life and even thought – just for a second or two, while alone in his hotel room – if she would've like to have dinner with him. Too bad Carol was rambling one day about some patient who had to pay alimony for four ex-wives and started counting the married, engaged and not married people in the E.R. Abby fell in the first category. Oh well…she would've said no anyway.

But no more second guesses now. She half pulled him out of the numbness that allowed him to function all those years, but didn't stick until the end. To them, he's invisible. To her, just a bit of history.

He had always thought he could tell what all those women wanted from him, always staring at him in bars, restaurants, supermarkets and gas stations. Some smiling sheepishly, some looking away when their eyes met or others very confident and inviting. He'd always ignored them, seen through them. He was either taken or not interested. But – what the hell? You're still young, single and attractive. You were changing diapers while your friends were changing vodka labels. You only live once so if you manage to do it fast, it'll all go away.

* * *

"Hi. Sorry to bother you. My friend is getting married in a week so we were out to celebrate….aaaaand…things got a bit kooky and we made a bet."

"Oh. What kind of bet?"

"We bet that you're either a stock broker, a lawyer or a secret agent ."

"Secret agent? No. Neither of those."

"Doctor?"

"Nope."

"But?"

"Actually, I'm a male escort."

"That would've been my first choice, but you didn't seem to be looking for…work."

"I'm off duty."

"Well, then you can sit with us."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Oh come on…three single ladies…the alcohol is starting to wear off... We would love to listen to a few of your stories…I mean…your line of work is just…fascinating."

"You think?"

"I know."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Since on the show they never gave us Luka's age, after a few calculations I came up with 37 in the first part of season 9, in 2002. I based this on the fact that he said in The Crossing that when his family died he was in the middle of his internship (and I took the liberty to presume that he had just started it a bit before the fighting turned heavy) and that in Croatia, as in most parts of Europe, med school lasts for six years, starting right after high school, which ends at 19 (or 18 for those who have been sent to school a year earlier). So, as the internship is the first year of residency, Luka was most likely 26 or 27 in 1991. I went with the first scenario.

* * *

5:43 A.M. The cool autumn air was invading the room, the scent of a new day making its way through the half opened windows. Next to him, she rested. Eyes closed, small movements of the lips…a hand on the pillow… no necklace, no other jewelry. No make-up either, but that must've wore off, because he couldn't remember her removing it. She was there, had been there for him the night before, allowed him to lost himself in her and took pleasure out of it. She was there, his, for a few hours, naked and alive. Her heart beats strong and regular, bursting of life, her hair soft and long, her body covered with a vanilla scent. She wanted to be there and he knew for sure that if he was to ask her out – dinner, movie, ice fishing or bungee jumping, she would've said yes. But that would mean he'd eventually have to start talking, making a connection, sharing pieces of his life and explaining once again how he'd managed to be 37 and still single. "I'm not exactly family oriented", was the latest he came up with. He dreaded all those, start all over again, care, only to ruin everything again. And – what women in her right mind would actually want to deal with all of that, anyway? A few were angry, mad at him, calling him jerk, others called him crying, pleading to get a second chance, wondering if they've made something wrong. But that answer would qualify as the evergreen saying "it's not you, it's me"; they deserved better, he wasn't good enough for them. He was actually spearing them, really.

So he just left, before her waking up, feeling grateful for not being in his own head the time he had spent with her, not thinking about things or questioning himself about a possible future. It was simple. It could actually work.

Carter passed him by today; all his anger, his self righteous attitude, his condescending looks were gone. No more trying to hurt him by asking him if Croatia is so wonderful, why isn't he going back, when the answer was so obvious, and it so didn't involve any sort of food; no more confronting him about patient care and ignoring the orders. He just smiled and said hello, and went on bitching about the shortage of needles. _" Developed a crack addiction again, you little whiner? Or whatever you were on…",_ but he had never actually spoken the words.

Later, Carter had even looked him in the eyes and with a broad smile made a stupid remark about him looking tired. "_Drop dead."_ He was at ease now, content with his little victory, marching around the E.R. like it was his own turf, laughing with the nurses, teasing Susan, getting thank you cards from former patients. _"Prick."_ At least he managed to get better security.

Then Janet – something came along. And she flirted and smiled, broadly, and seemed interested. And she flirted her way to the supply room, where she was more than eager and pleased, and even after that she still hung around him. Until things got serious and her daughter had more than an UTI so she needed family time, alone, and specifically told him that. Because he wasn't part of that, he wasn't part of anything and he's played his role, got his thank – yous, so all she wanted was for him to get lost. Fast. And so he did. Bad part? If Susan had never seen to be much of a fan, now he was pretty sure she didn't quite like him.

Soon, his mistakes turned into nurses being quiet whenever he walked into the room, his colleagues talking to him strictly about work, everyone avoiding him and feeling so unlucky to have to go through a shift with him. The only one who still was smiling at him from time to time was Carter, but he was sure that was just because Little Whiner felt a bit awkward about the whole thing and was trying to prove what a good sport he really was, although he only took what was his in the first place, anyway. What were all those people whispering about while looking at him when they thought he couldn't see them?

Fight fire with fire, right? Abby telling him he "totally sucks" only managed to give him confirmation that he really was on the right track. If she had been in his team before, now she was definitely on the other side. Complete isolation.

Escaping in medicine always did the trick. Families quarreling when faced with distress, people breaking down, feelings confessed, births, deaths, happiness and great sorrows. He had fought for each and one of them, for better care, for a better life or an easier death. He had shared their joy, tried to give comfort in times of misery, playing a different part in tens of different stories, feeling needed and respected for 12 hours a day. Until he couldn't just give anymore, until the stories turned completely the same every single time, when his part was done and he was being tossed aside, each of these people going back to their lives. Until he was empty and his safe place wasn't as safe anymore.

Well, Thanksgiving was coming up soon and even if that wasn't quite his holiday, he was thinking about celebrating. This year, he really was thankful. For alcohol.

While she was happy.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N. Since it seems I've forgotten about them, usual disclaimers apply._

**1:20 A.M.**

"Hello?"

"Hi." His voice was thick and blunt, but soon got softer.

"What do you need?", she asked.

"Can you come over?"

"Now?"

"Are you with…someone?"

"Nope. I'm all yours"

"How soon can you get here?"

"For you…in a flash."

He was half drunk, his shirt tucked out and couldn't even remember the last time he shaved. Lying numb on the couch, smoking cigarette after cigarette, even thought he couldn't feel any pleasure out of it. The only light in the room came from the T.V., forgotten on some random channel. For years, his main priority was not to think about **it**; now, even if he tried, he couldn't think.

"Hi", she said, with a perfect, charming smile. The smile she chose after practicing in the mirror a long time ago, the smile she concluded it worked all the time.

But he hadn't even noticed it and just moved out of her way so she can get in.

"I hope it didn't take me too long", she insisted.

"No, it's fine. Want a drink?"

"Don't I always?", she answered, while she started unbuttoning her shirt.

He brought her a glass of vodka, got another one for himself and went back to lying on the couch. She took a sip and continued undressing, while he lighted another cigarette and watched her.

"So do you want something special tonight? Or you just the regular?"

"Could you go through all the things I can choose from again?", he smirked.

And so he sat there, listening to Valerie, his personal…something, going through the menu, without actually being interested in anything. He had been taken aback when she first confessed that she had a price tag, but on a second thought he had realized it was the perfect equation. Nobody was hurting anymore.

"I went to the market the other day and the woman in front of me was buying this set of colored pencils", he interrupted her. "It must've had like … 50 of them. There were so many shades of blue and red and pink…green. I couldn't keep my eyes off them, they were so beautiful. "

She had finished undressing and was sitting next to him, legs crossed, one hand resting on his thigh.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore", he continued.

"Living your life. What's wrong with that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've always wanted to do more."

"Aren't you helping people already?"

"Not really. It doesn't make any difference for them if it's me or the next guy. " He got up and poured himself another drink.

"But…in some cases..aren't you making a difference?", she played along.

"I used to think so. I **am** better than most. I watched my classmates struggling with names, trying hard to memorize… then panicking, being overwhelmed when faced with somewhat complicated cases. It's always the same, even at County. For me…I've always liked a challenge."

"That's a bit arrogant…"

"No. I just used to know myself very well and trust my judgment and my skills."

"Is it overwhelming now?"

"No. I just got detached. Down side is that I'm in my own head all the time. I spend too much time with myself."

"I know a good way to spend some time together".

He watched her for a few seconds before deciding to finish his drink and get over with it.

**8:20 A.M.**

"Abby Lockhart" was handwritten on a small piece of paper he was playing with. The nurses weren't even sure if they should ask him this year, but then they figured it meant someone else would be left out. So he just picked one of the four remaining little pieces and threw it in his pocket. When he got to the lounge, in a soon abandoned attempt to sober himself up with the help of caffeine, he took it out, trying to get something else to think about.

But he would've preferred to be Romano's Secret Santa, or Weaver's or even Carter's. That would've been easy. He would've gotten Carter one of those "How To" books. Like…"How To Complain About Being Too Rich To Be Understood", although he was already an ace at that. But shopping for "Abby Lockhart" wasn't something he was feeling up to.

"Hey", she said, while entering the room.

"Hi." He tucked the piece of paper with her name on it and slipped it back to his pocket.

"I can't believe I'm 20 minutes late. How's the board?"

"Nothing we can't handle", he said, smiling.

"Yeah, cause we're superheroes. " She closed her locker and headed for the door. "Are you coming? I heard they're gonna bring some sort of ice skating incident."

"Mhmm. I'll be out in a minute."

"Are you ok? You look a bit … "

"What?", he chuckled.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"How's your brother? I heard Gallant came with you"

"Yeah, he tried his best to help." She turned around and opened the door, the sound of the full E.R. infiltrated ever corner. "I have to go, Romano's on today and… You should try to get more sleep."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks", he nodded, holding up his coffee mug.

**12:20 P.M.**

He was at his third coffee and it was barely after noon. A mild car crash, a miscarriage, some woman – Sarah – who he had no idea meeting called, a two year old boy with a severe stomach flu, Frank and his pointless comments, Romano calling him "Green card" again, a teenager with leukemia, three high school girls coming in for an STD treatment, after they've been with the same guy, a dog bite, a middle aged man having an MI, Susan organizing a Christmas party at her house, "Abby Lockhart" patiently waiting for him to decide, folded neatly in his pocket and an old lady with no next of kin.

"Have you seen Mr. Ritley? The guy in Exam 4, waiting to be cleared for a liver transplant?" Carter asked.

"No, I don't think so", he answered, without taking his eyes off of a chart.

"Well, anyway… if you see her, could you tell Corday he's ready, from the E.R. standpoint, so if she finds him, he's all hers?"

"Sure."

"I'll be across the street if anyone asks."

"Ok."

"Abby's brother, Eric, is refusing treatment and she doesn't quite know what to do with it all and…I guess he just needs a bit of reassurance. I won't be long."

"No worries."

Not much of an interest to help her when she needed help, after she became a done deal. _Arrogant twit._ Carter had shown so much interest in driving across country with her, just to show how much of a good guy and reliable he really is only when faced with competition. Now? His conscious was clear because he really did send Gallant, who was much more qualified, anyway. _Selfish idiot_. That manual Weaver had given him, about appropriate behavior and vocabulary at work, really came in handy now.

**11: 20 P.M.**

He was at the beginning of his ritual, pouring himself a glass of something and opening up a new pack of cigarettes, when the doorbell rang.

He opened it for her, like he did many times before, and took his usual spot on the couch.

"I've only got about two hours tonight", she said.

"Good." He put the glass on the small coffee table and finished the cigarette. He wasn't in a talking mood either.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N. I know the previous chapters don't have a name, but I like to call this one "**Two conversations about one thing**"_

_Thank you so much for reviewing, it really, really helps (please keep them coming, I'll behave). Just for the record, while I loved the after-Congo Luka/Carter friendship (the scene in season 10 when Carter runs after Luka just to ask him if he's OK after Sam took off is amazing), I think Carter's behaviour towards him in seasons 7 to 9 was condescending and self righetous and made me want to slap him with surgical gloves. And no, I don't think for a moment that Carter and Abby were in love. With each other (although in the next chapter - I don't want to give it all away - but we'll find out the true paternity of Joe. Or not)._

* * *

She couldn't quite tell how much time had passed since she sat there, with her feet up on the couch, her head resting on her hands . Next to her, on the table, a snowglobe. She must've turned it upside down and back again for tens of times, remembering the last few days.

"… and then Mom called to say "Merry Christmas", which made me realize that this really was for the best and that I overreacted before, feeling like an eight - year- old. Hey, did the pizza get here yet? I haven't eaten anything since Boston," Carter pulled her out of her reverie.

"What?" Abby rose her head to look at him

"I asked if…are you still with that thing?"

"I like it. It's calming". She laid her head on her hands again, but this time she was looking at him.

"Do you need to be …calmed down?" he chuckled, tossed aside the towel he was drying his hair with and sat next to her.

"I'm going to make some tea. You want some?"

"No, I'm fine."

He got up and followed her to the kitchen, caressing her shoulder while she filled the teapot. He ran his hands down her waist and kissed her softly on the neck; in return, she reached for the box of tea and placed two tea bags in a large cup. She told him she was going to take a shower, which made him gave up his efforts and left him a bit dumbfounded. On her way to the bathroom, Abby took the snowglobe from the living room table and went to the bedroom.

"What is it with you and that thing?" He followed her in the other room.

"What do you mean?"

"You're gonna take it to bed now?"

"No", she raised her eyebrows. "I just put it on a shelf so it wouldn't break."

"Why do you care so much whether it breaks or not?"

"Just…watch the pot for a while, ok?"

"Hey, if I had known you have a thing for cheap paperweight, I would've gotten you tons of these".

He took the snowglobe and turned the key, watching the fake snow fall on the reindeers inside, its rhythm tuned in with the sound of Greensleves. It really was a nice gift, considering ER's tradition.

"Hey, Weaver called", he remembered. "She wants me back tomorrow. Is Luka suspended or anything?"

"I don't know", she said, as she turned on the shower.

"Is the family of that kid gonna sue? He could have his license taken away for this."

"I don't know."

* * *

"Here. Thought you might need that".

He looked at her briefly, but didn't move, which made her offer him the coffee again.

"It's freezing. Don't you have a jacket with you, or something?"

He didn't answer that either, but she cleaned the snow from the bench and sat next to him, neither saying a word for minutes.

"Luka…" Abby broke the silence, but he interrupted her.

"How is she doing?"

"She's going to be fine. She's young…I don't think there'll be any long term damages. She is going to need a lot of hospitalization, though."

He put the coffee cup down and buried his face in his hands.

"It's freezing cold tonight!" Abby continued in a soft voice.

"You should get back inside."

"You still need a few stitches. I think I could remember how to do that", she smiled.

"I'm fine. Go back inside."

Abby wrapped her jacket tighter and took another sip of coffee, but didn't move.

"I should've just left when Chen got here. If I hadn't gotten back…"

"What was Erin doing in your car, Luka? What was she doing in your apartment?"

He turned his head to look at her. His eyes gave away his terror, spoke the truth. She had seen this just a few hours before, in the locker room, when trying to confront him about his actions. His eyes, red, surprised her then; she was ready to set him straight. Instead, she witnessed a bit of his true self slowly coming back to life and she realized that the real him wasn't gone; it was just lost, trapped somewhere in there, forgotten for a bit. This was only a shield.

"It was her this morning, wasn't it?" she continued.

"She was just a little girl with a crush". He closed his eyes. "How about the boy?"

"You should go home, we'll deal with it tomorrow."

"He was…I should've never gotten back. I just wanted to help in case the guy didn't speak English. I should've… If I hadn't gotten back, the boy might still be alive."

"You can't really know that", she whispered. "He was…sick. He was…he has leukemia!"

"He still could've lived for another ten years."

"Well, what's done is done. You should … you have to put your energy into figuring out what to do next."

"You mean if there is a next."

"There's always one", she smiled softly at him. "You just have to…start making it."

"Like you and your mother?"

She chuckled. "No, for me it's always the same; the routine never changes."

"I'm – I'm sorry, I shouldn't…. What are you still doing here? It's past 3."

"Trying to figure out my own next."

"With your brother, you mean?"

"My brother…my mother…"

"Carter?"

She shrugged, took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"Didn't you quit?"

"I did. And then I didn't. "

"What does Carter have to say about it?"

She chuckled. "He just doesn't appreciate the nicotine…and the inhaling…and exhaling."

"Can I….?" He pointed to the pack and as she nodded yes, he got one himself.

"You know, this is the first time you've actually asked."

"What?"

"You think I didn't know you sneaking behind my back while I was asleep and stealing my cigarettes?"

He smiled. "I was only trying to encourage you to smoke less."

"You should go home. Romano said something about an M&M next week. Did you finish talking to the police?"

"There wasn't much to say."

"For how long are you going to get your driver's license suspended?"

"I don't know. I saw you talking to the cops, what did they ask you?"

"The usual with these things."

"They wanted you to draw blood?"

"Don't worry about it, we took care of it."

"You shouldn't."

"Luka…You could've gone to jail. Or deported. Or killed."

"Wouldn't make much of a difference." He threw away the cigarette. "I couldn't stop. I still don't think I did."

"Stop...stop what? There are always choices."

"Maybe, but I'm not the one to make them. Or when I do… that boy is in a coma…Erin….I almost killed a kid…and his father….I just…You should stay away."

"I can't, I'm a sucker for disasters." She smiled and looked away. "What's going on, Luka?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? It doesn't seem nothing to me. Or everyone else."

"I guess now they have something to talk about for weeks."

"That wasn't my point. People are worried."

"Who?"

"People…you know…Susan….Kerry, even Romano was a bit worried tonight."

"Romano is worried about a lawsuit, Weaver worries about holes in the schedule and Susan fears she'll be the only one covering the floor."

"You don't really know that."

"Why would they care?"

"You should let people help you."

"I don't need help, I need to be left alone. And that's a bit hypocritical out of you."

"Ok…right. I knew this was going to be a mistake. I have to go back inside."

She got up to leave and made a few steps before he started speaking again.

"My mother used to have this small music box with a dancing ballerina. I used to sit for hours and just turn the key so I could play it over and over again; it fascinated me, but I loved it mostly because it was hers since she was little."

She thanked him softly.

"What for?" he asked.

"It was one of the most beautiful Christmas presents I ever got."

She turned around and this time left, leaving him alone on the bench in front of the E.R. It had started snowing, so he lifted his gaze for a few seconds and then covered his face with the palms of his hands again, so that the tears wouldn't freeze.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N. I'm sorry it took so long, the usual "I've been busy" excuse applies. Thank you again for all the comments and for reading, even if you didn't have anything to say :D I know this is a short one and there's one more chapter to this story (and that's going to be a really long one, to make up for this) which is more like an epilogue. I've already written half of it, but it's probably going to take another few weeks to get it done.**

* * *

He had unsuccessfully tried to sleep but gave up soon and settled for looking out the window, which meant more like staring blank. Luka hated flying; the first time he went on a plane he just wanted to get out, flee, an escape, and he didn't pay too much attention because his mind was still hung up on the image of his father, all teary-eyed, driving him to the airport and saying that it was the best decision his son ever made and that he was going to find a whole new life, that everything will be OK. Luka knew the old man was lying and would've probably trade both his arms to have him near, but just played along and nodded along with each encouragement. Evan so, Luka knew for sure that Josip not only lost a daughter-in-law and two grandchildren in the war, but his younger son, too. So it wouldn't have matter if his son's shadow stayed close or not.

This time, he had taken his time to admire and make a mental note about everything. The flight attendant's suit, her neat blonde hair pulled up in a pony tail, her French accent and her shyness. From her demeanor to her constantly questioning her colleague before doing anything, Luka presumed it was her first time doing this, or something close, anyway.

On his left , a man and a woman, cousins, from what he got from their conversation, traveling home for a funeral; on the seats in front of him, a woman with two children , both a bit over 10, traveling to the Congo to visit her husband, who had been gone for two years now. She seemed rather annoyed and bored, while the kinds were excited, like she had done this many times before.

He looked at the curtains, caressed the softness of the blanket near him, sipped from his can of Coke over and over and enjoyed the quietness. At first, he had been playing games on his cell and felt free, as he realized Chicago and County were about 15 hours behind, and no one had tried to reach him. No Weaver to yell at him, no Meyers to track him down and make him talk for the 13th time, not even one woman to tell him that she'll go insane without him. Nothing but quietness and calmness; nothing but him. And in the Congo – he hoped – nothing but doing what he loved best.

And while she wasn't happy, there was nothing he could do about it. He had given up on her and his life and more likely his job and comfort…and hot water and cold beer, a warm bed and cable television. She wasn't happy, but that was life, and he'd given her a few ways out, although not quite in the old fashioned way, but she had clearly made a choice.

"Est-ce votre première fois?" the woman next to him asked.

"Comment? J'ai déjà pris l'avion".

"Au Congo, je voulais dire. Vous n'êtes pas français."

"Non…je suis croate, vivant aux Etats-Unis."

"Oh, and now going to the Congo. Trying to see the entire world?" she asked, in an accented English.

"Actually, I'm going to be working there for a while."

"Are you a performer? Are you going to sing in one of those bands that have special concerts and donate all for charity? Or you're going with a diplomatic mission?" she teased.

Luka smiled and bent down his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I'm a doctor. I'm going there to help".

She smiled back and then turned to her cousin, who wanted to show her something in a magazine, he'd thought it was funny.

Luka took another sip of his coke and leant back on his seat. He really was a doctor.


End file.
